


Green Eyed

by Sincestiel



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: First Kiss, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 13:18:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8103940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sincestiel/pseuds/Sincestiel
Summary: He’s touching him again.  Always with the touching.  And the flirting.  And the practically fucking on stage.  Just mauling him.  And it might not be so frustrating except he seems to almost welcome the attention.  It’s downright infuriating at times.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I filled my own [prompt](http://sincestiel.tumblr.com/post/149602459900/i-need-a-fic-where-1-sebastian-is-constantly). Sorry. Written and posted on my tablet. Mistakes are likely.

He’s touching him again. Always with the touching. And the flirting. And the practically fucking on stage. Just mauling him. And it might not be so frustrating except he seems to almost welcome the attention. It’s downright infuriating at times.

Jensen watches from the sidelines as Sebastian’s hand dips just a little lower, fingers splaying, one lone digit almost slipping under the waistband of Misha’s jeans. Someone in the crowd whistles and that’s it. Jensen is going to go up there and – 

Misha smiles in the direction of the outbursts and shifts slightly to the right, effectively dislodging Sebastian’s wandering hand without causing too much fuss. And Jensen calms. Steps back, farther into the shadows and waits. 

Five minutes. That’s all the time they have. In five minutes Jensen will amble onto the stage and the crowd will go wild and then Misha and Sebastian will go their separate ways. Because this? This handsy, gropey, sex fest only ever happens on stage. Or Jensen’s never seen it happen anywhere else. So he’s just hoping it’s all for show.

“Of course I love him. How could anyone not love this face?” Sebastian says, obviously in answer to some question Jensen missed. Or maybe there wasn’t a question at all. Who knows? Sebastian seems to always be looking for a reason to declare his love for Misha.

Jensen grits his teeth and reminds himself that he _likes_ Sebastian. He really, really does. He likes him even more when Misha is not on stage with him though.

Sebastian raises his hand, caressing Misha’s cheek and then uses the leverage to turn their faces toward each other. Jensen burns bright white hot with rage. Jealousy, fucking _jealousy_ , settles heavy and nasty in the pit of his stomach. It would be a revelation, the knowledge that Misha can evoke such strong emotions in him, if he wasn’t being utterly consumed by resentment.

Jensen doesn’t know what might have happened. Sebastian surely would have carried through with a kiss. Of that part, Jensen is sure. But Misha might have pulled away. Probably. Or turned to the side to accept the kiss on his cheek? It doesn’t matter. Because Jensen steps out from behind the curtain to immediate applause before it can go any further.

Misha’s head jerks in his direction and the smile that lights his face, welcoming and joyful and maybe just a shade of relieved, is absolutely stunning. Jensen’s frown shifts into a smile and then an almost dirty smirk when his eyes land on Sebastian. 

“Jensen Ackles, everybody,”Misha says into the microphone, holding his hand toward Jensen. And then lower when Jensen steps closer, only for him, “Hey.”

It’s just one word. Innocuous and generic. A greeting for a friend. Or a co-worker. Soft and friendly and private. And it’s that more than anything, the way the greeting is only for Jensen, that makes Jensen’s heart skip. And just like that he’s forgotten all the anger and envy. Because Misha plays it up with Sebastian on stage. He really does. But only Jensen gets this. This sweet, docile side of Misha.

“Hey. Drinks later?” Jensen asks, eyes flicking over briefly to Sebastian who seems to have moved on and is now picking at a girl in the audience. Misha nods, a small, discreet smile just softening his features, before turning back to the crowd and Sebastian.

“Stop harassing the audience, Sebastian,” Misha admonishes with fond exasperation and now that Jensen is on stage, situating himself between the two men, he joins in, almost as fondly.

“Yeah. Not sure they paid to come here and be mauled by you.”

But the girl currently wrapped in Sebastian’s embrace shrugs and they all laugh.

“Well you left me high and dry when your boyfriend crashed our little party. What did you expect? I have needs, Misha.”

Jensen knows he should argue with the boyfriend bit. Their fans get enough crazy ideas without adding fuel to the fire. But there’s something about the knowing twinkle in Sebastian’s eyes and the light blush sweeping up Misha’s neck that stops him. And instead of denying, he goes along with the joke.

“You were pawing at him, man. What’s a guy to do? Stand back and watch that happen? I had to step in. Someone has to protect Misha’s virtue.”

Misha laughs at that and it’s just a bunch of fake posturing and over the top flirting after that. Soon enough, too soon really because Jensen hates being on stage alone, they’re gone and he’s left to entertain the crowd on his own. So he puts any thoughts of Misha and jealousy away and turns to the task of keeping all the fangirls (and the odd fanboy) happy and in line (because they get a little wild sometimes).

It’s not until much later, when he has a happy, warm, and slightly tipsy Misha plastered to his side as they stare at a silent television, that he thinks about any of it again. And even as he’s turning it all over and over in his mind, liquor eroding the sharp edges so the memory ends up almost distorted, he thinks he should leave it be. But he can’t get over seeing Misha practically glowing under Sebastian’s smile.

The thing is, Jensen isn’t typically an overly jealous guy. He thinks that if he knew where he stood with Misha, what, exactly, they are to one another, it would be different. He wouldn’t feel quite so insecure if he knew Misha was his… his… best friend? No. And he’s pretty sure he winces visibly at how sourly that sits on the tip of his tongue.

His suspicions are confirmed when Misha pokes him in the thigh and snorts out a tiny laugh, “What are you thinking about that has your pretty face all scrunched up?”

Pretty. Ha. Anyone else would not get away with that. But, the thing is, from anyone else it would feel either insulting or condescending. From Misha it feels like praise. So Jensen ignores it. Or basks in it. Whatever.

“Are we best friends?” He asks, alcohol making him less inclined to filter or even think about what he’s saying.

Misha doesn’t even hesitate, “Yeah, we’re friends. Of course.”

Jensen tries to just accept that answer, but it still doesn’t feel quite right. It’s like he’s been piecing a puzzle together over the last few years and now he’s down to two or three pieces that just aren’t fitting right. And he knows if he could just get them turned the right way it would all slot together perfectly. And then he could see the full picture. Know just what this is and what they are. But Misha isn’t helping.

“I know that,” Jensen says, pulling away a little and rearranging himself so that he’s facing (and not touching because that’s distracting) Misha on the couch. “But are we _best_ friends?”

“Jared is your best friend,” Misha shrugs as he picks up the beer he has sitting on the table in front of them and takes a swig. So easy. So nonchalant. Maybe his puzzle is already together? Maybe Misha has the full picture?

“This isn’t junior high, Misha. A guy can have more than one best friend.”

Misha smiles at that, much wider than Jensen thinks his inebriated wit really deserves even.

“Why the sudden interest in labeling us, Jensen?” He says it jokingly, and he’s still smiling, but there’s a shift in the atmosphere and everything feels off center now. And a piece of that puzzle clicks into place.

“I feel like,” Jensen starts, breaking Misha’s gaze and becoming very entranced with the hem of his shirt, “I feel like I’m behind. Like you know something I don’t and you’re just not telling me.”

Misha chuckles again and reaches out to place his hand over the hand Jensen is using to pick at his shirt. Jensen feels compelled to meet Misha’s eyes again and when he does he finds surety and a little nervousness in their too blue depths.

“You know too. I know you do. Think about it. Why did you come out to wrangle Sebastian today? Why did you step on to the stage when you did?”

Jensen answers easily enough. “I was jealous,” Misha’s smile grows and he nods encouragingly, “You’re my friend and-“

“Just a friend?” Misha cuts in, “Do you feel the need to step in when someone else flirts with Jared?”

Jensen thinks about that and the answer is so simple, “Only when it’s you.”

There’s a moment of complete silence wherein Misha watches him expectantly and Jensen sort of flounders around wanting desperately to get this right and not disappoint Misha and then…

Oh.

_Oh._

“Well shit,” Jensen whispers, that last puzzle piece slotting right into place. And now he sees it. Even though he maybe, kind of, possibly could have guessed before.

“I love you,” he offers, like the epiphany it is rather than the anxious admission Misha might have expected.

“The feeling is… um… mutual. All of that with Sebastian is fun. Just because it’s fun and also because of what it does to you. But that’s not this,” Misha says quietly, waving between the two of them.

Jensen nods absently, now studying the couch fabric intently because looking at Misha is just too much.

“I’ve never even kissed another guy before. Not like that anyway. I don’t know… I mean, I’m not sure…”

And he must look pretty freaked out because Misha tries to let go of Jensen’s hand, which Jensen does not allow, turning his own palm up to lace their fingers together. And that gives him something new to focus on. The way Misha’s fingers tangle with his. How it feels to finally hold some part of this man and claim it for his own.

“Look, Jensen, if you don’t want to-“

“No,” Jensen is quick to cut in, eyes dragging up to lock with Misha’s again, “I _do_ want. I do. I’m just not sure, you know? I don’t know how all this will work, or…”

Because even though he’s realized how he feels about Misha, he still has some issues. Kissing another guy? Kissing Misha? Sure. That he can do. In fact, he thinks, glancing at Misha’s plush mouth, that he would like to do soon. But gay sex? _That_ is just a little outside his repertoire.

“Then you set the pace. It’s as simple as that.”

“Yeah, okay, but what if I never want to-“

“Then we don’t. See? Simple. Easy. Just like it’s always been for us.”

Misha shrugs and tries to turn back toward the television but Jensen stops him with one hand just grazing Misha’s jaw.

“Easy and simple, huh?” Jensen murmurs just before he closes the distance between their faces. The angle is a little awkward and Jensen flounders for a second or two at the feels of Misha’s stubble scraping his own, but then Misha sighs softly, one of his hands slipping around Jensen’s waist to cling to his shirt. And then. Then. God. It’s perfect.

Misha’s lips are soft and full and his tongue is a velvet slide and the moan Jensen earns when he maps out Misha’s palette is just short of utterly wicked. And when they pull apart all Jensen sees for a minute is blue. The bottomless blue of Misha’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Jensen breathes into the space separating their lips, “I’ll want to.”

Misha’s crooked grin is the last shape that mouth takes before Jensen claims it again.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](http://sincestiel.tumblr.com/) if you want. I might even take your prompt if you want to leave one in my ask.


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